CHARLES EDWIN JAKEWAY

ITHE twilight land toyed with the nightWhen from the hills with footsteps lightAn Indian maiden passed adownA rugged path o'er boulders brownUnto the soft gray river sand.The sweet balsamic breezes fannedHer bronze-brown cheeks and blue-black hairWith loving wings, and lilies fairHeld up their golden cups to stayThe progress of her paddle's play,As o'er the quivering ripplets she,With airy grace and gestures free,Pulled from the beach a bark canoe,And threaded reedy mazes throughToward the river's open breast,That reached away into the westTill it caressed the after-glowOf sunset in the distance low.IIThe river's rippling monotone—The low-voiced chants of zephyrs lone,That swung like censers through the hallsBy leafage arched, with leafage walls—The lazy hum of insect song—All seemed to woo the shades alongThe golden rim of eventide,As back and forth her paddle pliedThrough solemn symphonies of gloomInto the night-enshrouded tombOf recent day. The throbbing starsRose one by one above the barsOf dark abysmal to the seaOf heaven, and the mysteryOf Nature's silence robed her roundWith garments threaded by the soundOf marsh-bird's wail, or pine-wood's moan.At length she turned, and towards the zoneOf blackness, girding round the streamAs Lethe coils around a dream,She swerved the course of the canoe,And through the grasses, damp with dew,That held their arms down from the bankTo fondle with the rushes rank,Propelled its prow against the sand,And silently sprang to the land.IIIShe pulled aside a maple screenThat curtained off a weird ravine,And stepped toward a smouldering flame,O'er which crouched low an ancient dameWhose wrinkled face, as leather dry,Seemed dead, except that either eyeShone with a fierce, malignant glare,Like that which lights the wild-cat's lairWhen danger pries into its keep."Mother, I'm glad you're not asleep,"The maiden said in awesome way."I've dared the dark which follows day,And paddled up through shade and gloom,And grim, fantastic shapes that loomLike giant goblins round the roadThat leads to your retired abode.""You're welcome, child, but never dreadThat you'll disturb my sleeping bed,"The dame's harsh voice made answer soon,"I do not sleep till night-tide's noonHas gone to meet the dawning day.All night my tireless fancies playUnceasing gambols with the gnomesThat chase each other 'neath the domesThat roof the wild deer's headlong pathWhen flying from the hunter's wrath.Why came you here? Do troubles chaseYou from your pillowed resting-place?Has love bestowed a heart on you,And come you here to prove it true?""No heart has love bestowed on me,But mine has gone, and I to theeCome in the anguish of my griefTo seek for solace or relief.'Tis said that you can lift the screenThat veils the destinies unseen....Until this summer I was freeAnd happy as the warbling birds;My thoughts ran on in merry words,As runnels ripple o'er the rocks,Or careless as my own dark locks,Which flung their mane to capture gleamsThat glanced from sun-bedizened streams.I watched the braves return one dayFrom a victorious foray,And noted, towering o'er the rest,A chieftain from the outbound westWith eyes of fire and haughty frown.I met him ere the sun went downAnd saw his frown turn to a smile,And in his eyes the fire the whileWas fanned to fascination sweet.The Eagle Eye a lover meetWould be—" "Hist, child, footsteps approach!Hide till we see who doth encroachWithin the bounds of my domain.To yonder bush, and there remainUntil I call you forth again."IVThe ancient crone revived the blazeUntil its red, uncertain raysCrept down the hillside dun, and diedUpon the river's misty tide.Then by the lurid flickering gleams,That seemed dissolving out of dreamsAmong the leafy arcades far,She caught the glitter of a starThat silver-like shot from its nestUpon a young brave's stalwart breast,As up the forest path he came,Attracted by the pinewood flame."Why comest thou?" her voice rang keenThrough shrouded glade and dim ravine."I come to pray you'll weave a spellWhereby the future to foretell.A chieftain I, in battle skilled,Full many a foeman I have killed;I've scalped the locks from many a brow,And never shirked a task till now.Through ghostly fogs, o'er leaping brooks,'Mid slumbering snakes in dusky nooks,O'er sullen lairs and reedy shades,O'er quivering brakes and venomed glades,O'er gusty hills, sun-flushed and high,That shook their locks against the sky,O'er shady stretches long and lone,O'er rocky ledge, through caverned stone,Past morning's prime, past twilight gray,I've tracked my foemen on their wayWith heart relentless, and with handReady to hurl the deadly brandWith naught of mercy nor of fear.And yet to-night I'm standing here,Afraid to face a maiden's eyes,Afraid to reach to grasp the prizeMy heart desires all else above,Her precious treasury of love.I've tried to break the bonds that rollTheir magic coils around my soul,By daring danger on the lakeWhen storm-clouds o'er its bosom break—By roaming over flood and fell—By trying every potent spellThe old magician 'neath the hillCould summon to assist my will—By chasing gravelights over graves,And rambling where the were-wolf ravesOut threats of torture and of rackTo hapless ones that cross its track.I've run death's gauntlet, day by day,Where hungry wild-cats screech for prey,But everywhere the haunting faceOf Budding Rose in matchless graceSwims 'fore my eyes. Pray, mother, tell,Will she return my love? DispelMy doubts at once and seal my fate!""Sit down behind that bush and wait,"The dame replied, "until I callThe wood-sprites up within my thrall."VShe lit a smoking pine-knot red,And swayed it thrice around her head,Then hurled it hissing in the marsh,The while her voice on air-wings harshPassed through the thronging shadows dense,Unto love's hearing strained and tense."I hear the voices of the treesIn answer to the asking breeze,And this is what the voices say:'True love will always have its way!'Come forth, my children, to the light;The answer to the breeze is right."The maiden came with drooping head,The brave with grave and measured tread,And joined their hands above the blaze."For you, fond lovers, length of daysI prophesy, and happy times.Your lives shall run like merry rhymesThrough many years of full content,And when at last your course is spent,Your children shall revere your name,Your children's children—" Flashed a flame,A lightning blast, athwart their eyes,And death assailed them in the guiseOf Iroquois, the Hurons' dread—And seeress, lovers, all were dead!

THE twilight land toyed with the night

When from the hills with footsteps light

An Indian maiden passed adown

A rugged path o'er boulders brown

Unto the soft gray river sand.

The sweet balsamic breezes fanned

Her bronze-brown cheeks and blue-black hair

With loving wings, and lilies fair

Held up their golden cups to stay

The progress of her paddle's play,

As o'er the quivering ripplets she,

With airy grace and gestures free,

Pulled from the beach a bark canoe,

And threaded reedy mazes through

Toward the river's open breast,

That reached away into the west

Till it caressed the after-glow

Of sunset in the distance low.

IIThe river's rippling monotone—The low-voiced chants of zephyrs lone,That swung like censers through the hallsBy leafage arched, with leafage walls—The lazy hum of insect song—All seemed to woo the shades alongThe golden rim of eventide,As back and forth her paddle pliedThrough solemn symphonies of gloomInto the night-enshrouded tombOf recent day. The throbbing starsRose one by one above the barsOf dark abysmal to the seaOf heaven, and the mysteryOf Nature's silence robed her roundWith garments threaded by the soundOf marsh-bird's wail, or pine-wood's moan.At length she turned, and towards the zoneOf blackness, girding round the streamAs Lethe coils around a dream,She swerved the course of the canoe,And through the grasses, damp with dew,That held their arms down from the bankTo fondle with the rushes rank,Propelled its prow against the sand,And silently sprang to the land.

The river's rippling monotone—

The low-voiced chants of zephyrs lone,

That swung like censers through the halls

By leafage arched, with leafage walls—

The lazy hum of insect song—

All seemed to woo the shades along

The golden rim of eventide,

As back and forth her paddle plied

Through solemn symphonies of gloom

Into the night-enshrouded tomb

Of recent day. The throbbing stars

Rose one by one above the bars

Of dark abysmal to the sea

Of heaven, and the mystery

Of Nature's silence robed her round

With garments threaded by the sound

Of marsh-bird's wail, or pine-wood's moan.

At length she turned, and towards the zone

Of blackness, girding round the stream

As Lethe coils around a dream,

She swerved the course of the canoe,

And through the grasses, damp with dew,

That held their arms down from the bank

To fondle with the rushes rank,

Propelled its prow against the sand,

And silently sprang to the land.

IIIShe pulled aside a maple screenThat curtained off a weird ravine,And stepped toward a smouldering flame,O'er which crouched low an ancient dameWhose wrinkled face, as leather dry,Seemed dead, except that either eyeShone with a fierce, malignant glare,Like that which lights the wild-cat's lairWhen danger pries into its keep."Mother, I'm glad you're not asleep,"The maiden said in awesome way."I've dared the dark which follows day,And paddled up through shade and gloom,And grim, fantastic shapes that loomLike giant goblins round the roadThat leads to your retired abode.""You're welcome, child, but never dreadThat you'll disturb my sleeping bed,"The dame's harsh voice made answer soon,"I do not sleep till night-tide's noonHas gone to meet the dawning day.All night my tireless fancies playUnceasing gambols with the gnomesThat chase each other 'neath the domesThat roof the wild deer's headlong pathWhen flying from the hunter's wrath.Why came you here? Do troubles chaseYou from your pillowed resting-place?Has love bestowed a heart on you,And come you here to prove it true?""No heart has love bestowed on me,But mine has gone, and I to theeCome in the anguish of my griefTo seek for solace or relief.'Tis said that you can lift the screenThat veils the destinies unseen....Until this summer I was freeAnd happy as the warbling birds;My thoughts ran on in merry words,As runnels ripple o'er the rocks,Or careless as my own dark locks,Which flung their mane to capture gleamsThat glanced from sun-bedizened streams.I watched the braves return one dayFrom a victorious foray,And noted, towering o'er the rest,A chieftain from the outbound westWith eyes of fire and haughty frown.I met him ere the sun went downAnd saw his frown turn to a smile,And in his eyes the fire the whileWas fanned to fascination sweet.The Eagle Eye a lover meetWould be—" "Hist, child, footsteps approach!Hide till we see who doth encroachWithin the bounds of my domain.To yonder bush, and there remainUntil I call you forth again."

III

She pulled aside a maple screen

That curtained off a weird ravine,

And stepped toward a smouldering flame,

O'er which crouched low an ancient dame

Whose wrinkled face, as leather dry,

Seemed dead, except that either eye

Shone with a fierce, malignant glare,

Like that which lights the wild-cat's lair

When danger pries into its keep.

"Mother, I'm glad you're not asleep,"

The maiden said in awesome way.

"I've dared the dark which follows day,

And paddled up through shade and gloom,

And grim, fantastic shapes that loom

Like giant goblins round the road

That leads to your retired abode."

"You're welcome, child, but never dread

That you'll disturb my sleeping bed,"

The dame's harsh voice made answer soon,

"I do not sleep till night-tide's noon

Has gone to meet the dawning day.

All night my tireless fancies play

Unceasing gambols with the gnomes

That chase each other 'neath the domes

That roof the wild deer's headlong path

When flying from the hunter's wrath.

Why came you here? Do troubles chase

You from your pillowed resting-place?

Has love bestowed a heart on you,

And come you here to prove it true?"

"No heart has love bestowed on me,

But mine has gone, and I to thee

Come in the anguish of my grief

To seek for solace or relief.

'Tis said that you can lift the screen

That veils the destinies unseen....

Until this summer I was free

And happy as the warbling birds;

My thoughts ran on in merry words,

As runnels ripple o'er the rocks,

Or careless as my own dark locks,

Which flung their mane to capture gleams

That glanced from sun-bedizened streams.

I watched the braves return one day

From a victorious foray,

And noted, towering o'er the rest,

A chieftain from the outbound west

With eyes of fire and haughty frown.

I met him ere the sun went down

And saw his frown turn to a smile,

And in his eyes the fire the while

Was fanned to fascination sweet.

The Eagle Eye a lover meet

Would be—" "Hist, child, footsteps approach!

Hide till we see who doth encroach

Within the bounds of my domain.

To yonder bush, and there remain

Until I call you forth again."

IVThe ancient crone revived the blazeUntil its red, uncertain raysCrept down the hillside dun, and diedUpon the river's misty tide.Then by the lurid flickering gleams,That seemed dissolving out of dreamsAmong the leafy arcades far,She caught the glitter of a starThat silver-like shot from its nestUpon a young brave's stalwart breast,As up the forest path he came,Attracted by the pinewood flame."Why comest thou?" her voice rang keenThrough shrouded glade and dim ravine."I come to pray you'll weave a spellWhereby the future to foretell.A chieftain I, in battle skilled,Full many a foeman I have killed;I've scalped the locks from many a brow,And never shirked a task till now.Through ghostly fogs, o'er leaping brooks,'Mid slumbering snakes in dusky nooks,O'er sullen lairs and reedy shades,O'er quivering brakes and venomed glades,O'er gusty hills, sun-flushed and high,That shook their locks against the sky,O'er shady stretches long and lone,O'er rocky ledge, through caverned stone,Past morning's prime, past twilight gray,I've tracked my foemen on their wayWith heart relentless, and with handReady to hurl the deadly brandWith naught of mercy nor of fear.And yet to-night I'm standing here,Afraid to face a maiden's eyes,Afraid to reach to grasp the prizeMy heart desires all else above,Her precious treasury of love.I've tried to break the bonds that rollTheir magic coils around my soul,By daring danger on the lakeWhen storm-clouds o'er its bosom break—By roaming over flood and fell—By trying every potent spellThe old magician 'neath the hillCould summon to assist my will—By chasing gravelights over graves,And rambling where the were-wolf ravesOut threats of torture and of rackTo hapless ones that cross its track.I've run death's gauntlet, day by day,Where hungry wild-cats screech for prey,But everywhere the haunting faceOf Budding Rose in matchless graceSwims 'fore my eyes. Pray, mother, tell,Will she return my love? DispelMy doubts at once and seal my fate!""Sit down behind that bush and wait,"The dame replied, "until I callThe wood-sprites up within my thrall."

The ancient crone revived the blaze

Until its red, uncertain rays

Crept down the hillside dun, and died

Upon the river's misty tide.

Then by the lurid flickering gleams,

That seemed dissolving out of dreams

Among the leafy arcades far,

She caught the glitter of a star

That silver-like shot from its nest

Upon a young brave's stalwart breast,

As up the forest path he came,

Attracted by the pinewood flame.

"Why comest thou?" her voice rang keen

Through shrouded glade and dim ravine.

"I come to pray you'll weave a spell

Whereby the future to foretell.

A chieftain I, in battle skilled,

Full many a foeman I have killed;

I've scalped the locks from many a brow,

And never shirked a task till now.

Through ghostly fogs, o'er leaping brooks,

'Mid slumbering snakes in dusky nooks,

O'er sullen lairs and reedy shades,

O'er quivering brakes and venomed glades,

O'er gusty hills, sun-flushed and high,

That shook their locks against the sky,

O'er shady stretches long and lone,

O'er rocky ledge, through caverned stone,

Past morning's prime, past twilight gray,

I've tracked my foemen on their way

With heart relentless, and with hand

Ready to hurl the deadly brand

With naught of mercy nor of fear.

And yet to-night I'm standing here,

Afraid to face a maiden's eyes,

Afraid to reach to grasp the prize

My heart desires all else above,

Her precious treasury of love.

I've tried to break the bonds that roll

Their magic coils around my soul,

By daring danger on the lake

When storm-clouds o'er its bosom break—

By roaming over flood and fell—

By trying every potent spell

The old magician 'neath the hill

Could summon to assist my will—

By chasing gravelights over graves,

And rambling where the were-wolf raves

Out threats of torture and of rack

To hapless ones that cross its track.

I've run death's gauntlet, day by day,

Where hungry wild-cats screech for prey,

But everywhere the haunting face

Of Budding Rose in matchless grace

Swims 'fore my eyes. Pray, mother, tell,

Will she return my love? Dispel

My doubts at once and seal my fate!"

"Sit down behind that bush and wait,"

The dame replied, "until I call

The wood-sprites up within my thrall."

VShe lit a smoking pine-knot red,And swayed it thrice around her head,Then hurled it hissing in the marsh,The while her voice on air-wings harshPassed through the thronging shadows dense,Unto love's hearing strained and tense."I hear the voices of the treesIn answer to the asking breeze,And this is what the voices say:'True love will always have its way!'Come forth, my children, to the light;The answer to the breeze is right."The maiden came with drooping head,The brave with grave and measured tread,And joined their hands above the blaze."For you, fond lovers, length of daysI prophesy, and happy times.Your lives shall run like merry rhymesThrough many years of full content,And when at last your course is spent,Your children shall revere your name,Your children's children—" Flashed a flame,A lightning blast, athwart their eyes,And death assailed them in the guiseOf Iroquois, the Hurons' dread—And seeress, lovers, all were dead!

She lit a smoking pine-knot red,

And swayed it thrice around her head,

Then hurled it hissing in the marsh,

The while her voice on air-wings harsh

Passed through the thronging shadows dense,

Unto love's hearing strained and tense.

"I hear the voices of the trees

In answer to the asking breeze,

And this is what the voices say:

'True love will always have its way!'

Come forth, my children, to the light;

The answer to the breeze is right."

The maiden came with drooping head,

The brave with grave and measured tread,

And joined their hands above the blaze.

"For you, fond lovers, length of days

I prophesy, and happy times.

Your lives shall run like merry rhymes

Through many years of full content,

And when at last your course is spent,

Your children shall revere your name,

Your children's children—" Flashed a flame,

A lightning blast, athwart their eyes,

And death assailed them in the guise

Of Iroquois, the Hurons' dread—

And seeress, lovers, all were dead!

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